


Treason

by Daringdoublebassist



Series: Nat/Mia Shorts [7]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Crack, Domestic Avengers, Drinking, F/F, Falcon fears birds, Inebriated superheroes, Maria Hill is a Good Bro, Maria Hill's night off, No birds were harmed in the making of this fanfic, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Maria Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daringdoublebassist/pseuds/Daringdoublebassist
Summary: What the hell would it matter if she got totally inebriated? Weekends were mini-holidays. She could take a break!It was as she nibbled at her last few tomato-coated pizza crusts, that her phone sprang to life.Nattie Bae		18.55Help me hide a fugitive?Nattie Bae		18.57ETA 2000 hours.





	Treason

A lazy evening ahead meant that Maria Hill had escaped the confines of her tactical gear for the softest onesie as soon as she returned home.

With her thirst quenched on a couple of glasses of red, she stretched out along the sofa nearest the T.V. Time to binge on a new series of that mindless comedy she liked!

What the hell would it matter if she got totally inebriated? Weekends were mini-holidays. She could use a break. Anyway, the wife wouldn’t be due back until Saturday morning. Maria could order food in, and gulp down a pint of ice-cream with nobody judging her or pouting!

It was as she nibbled at her last few tomato-coated pizza crusts, that her phone sprang to life.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 18.55** _  
_Help me hide a fugitive?_

Maria sighed. She had assumed Nat would be mischief-free if she hung out more with Steve and his gang, but alas, Sam and Bucky were total trouble-makers!

What could they possibly have done this time? Did it involve glitter or glue? Would her wife be returned to her as a smurf? Maria shuddered away this image and sipped some more wine.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 18.57** _  
_Sam’s crying. Our ETA is 2000 hours._

This was an unhelpful addition, for Maria did not possess the power of distance telepathy.

Where was the gang?

The reply she sent asked briefly, sensibly, if they too were drunk.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.01** _  
_We had a bit of vodka. But Captain Sobriety is driving._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.02** _  
_Mia, he won’t stop crying! What do I do?_

While she could hold a reasonable amount of alcohol before becoming entirely useless, Natasha did have three known stages of drunkenness:

• **Stage 1. Giggly Nat** must have passed, otherwise she would be making fun of her comrades until they either laughed with her or murdered her.

• **Stage 3. Sleepy, Incoherent Nat** was not indicated from her advanced sentence structure.

• This was sounding an awful lot like **Stage 2. Socially-Awkward Nat** \- Maria could almost see her sweet little face, all flustered, and embarrassed, and confused.

She wrote back that a hug may be appreciated.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.07** _  
_He has too many arms._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.08** _  
_It’s okay – some of them are wings._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.15** _  
_He wiped his nose in Jamie’s hair._

Lucky Barnes, Maria snickered, her attention moving towards the T.V. The antagonist was trying to swim in a paddling pool filled with Orbeez.

Maria slurped contentedly on her caramel fudge vanilla, and sank into the settee. It was a quarter to eight before her phone next blazed with alerts.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.46** _  
_We’re near. Sam’s got himself a mourning suit. We’re in mourning._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.46** _  
_Don’t you want to know why?_

Maria moaned, and sank into her sofa nest. From there, she drew the strength to ask her wifey why.

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.47** _  
_He committed treason. He’s a murderer._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.48** _  
_He saw my text. He’s crying again._

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.50** _  
_Leave the window open. We can’t be seen!_

 _**Nattie Bae (ICE) 19.51** _  
_You have to help us hide the body!_

Perhaps Maria shouldn’t have relaxed so early on in the evening. Natasha’s friends were nutcases, and she was only slightly saner. This could become a longer night than intended.

She didn’t bother opening the window. It was far funnier watching Sam face-plant into the glass.

Using her infamous dexterity, Natasha picked the lock and flung herself into the apartment. With her less-known drunkenness, she then stumbled over the rug and the pizza box, and fell face-first into Maria’s stomach.

“Hi, baby.”

Maria supposed she should get up now.

She rose, pecking her wife’s lips, studying the three men who emerged from the balcony. Sam Wilson was indeed sobbing, his shoulders heaving, his t-shirt blotchy with damp patches. Bucky Barnes leaned against the sofa, scratching his left armpit. And Steve Rogers stood tall and erect, looking every bit the immaculate soldier, if it weren’t for the enormous bird prostrate in his arms.

“Mia, Mia,” Natasha began, clinging to her hands, and pulling her over to her men-friends. “Sammy did treason!”

“ _Did_ treason?” Maria queried, smirking.

“Yes! He hit a swan! It’s dead. Look!” Her darling pointed in the general direction of Steve and the bird. “It’s treason. He’ll be hanged. We need to hide him.” Her vice-like grip left Maria, and in an instant, she and Sam had shoved themselves under the coffee table.

“It’s unconscious,” Steve growled, nose upturned and away from his cargo. “Still breathing.”

“We tried to tell them.” Bucky muttered, yawning. He surveyed the living room. “Sorry to interrupt your evening.”

“What happened?”

“Nat was throwing a few seeds off her bagel into the lake.” Bucky began, exchanging a dark look with Steve. “And this guy,” He jerked his thumb, “Came at Sam asking for more. And Sam just punched it. We didn’t know he was afraid of birds. Well, why would we – he’s nick-named ‘Falcon’ for God’s sake.”

“Idiots.” Steve mumbled.

“And then Nat picked it up and just ran with it – for miles. Literally. She’s an odd one, your girl.”

Maria nodded, not phased.

“We didn’t go far today: New England.” Steve was grimacing down at the prone beast; it seemed to move and he grasped it tighter. He looked to the pair of lunatics. “Can I put this dow-?”

“NO!” Their retort was probably heard throughout the building. They shuffled and tittered together, snuffling around on the carpet for pizza crumbs.

“We need to bury it.” Sam was now telling Natasha who gnawed a particularly crunchy-looking crust. “Do you have a bucket and spade?”

Bucky huffed and hissed, “Just chuck it out the window, Steve. Those things can fly.” He cocked an eyebrow at Maria and muttered, “Your girl is adorable when drunk, but seriously, this is getting ridiculous. Can you help?”

Maria inspected the hiding duo, and rolled slightly fuzzy eyes. Sam had shoved himself all the way under the table, and only his right ear was visible. However, Natasha’s shoulder was dangerously close to upending the ice-cream pot. That was unacceptable!

“All right, you two. Get up!” She nudged her wife with a toe, and pointed to the rug before them.

“You’ll help us?” Sam asked, his face shining with gratitude and stupidity.

Maria nodded. She sighed, straightened, and restrained herself from jumping her Nattie. How lovely she looked in those jeans and t-shirt. The backwards baseball cap was an endearing addition. Her face was so cute and-

“Hill!”

Maria snapped to attention out of pure habit.

“You were saying?” Steve appeared to have given up on keeping the bird; he now held it at arm’s length from the balcony railings.

“I cannot hide you, Sam.” She set her gaze to focus on Sam’s forehead. He stood taller than Natasha did. She was less distracting from Maria’s periphery.

“Aww, Maria!”

“Because you won’t be hanged.”

“No, because it’s-” Natasha began, shaking her gorgeous auburn locks.

“It’s not dead.”

The thing was now croaking confusedly at Steve; he boggled back at it.

The night air blew into the living room, a brief wave of calming, coolness.

“But we have stolen it!” Sam screamed, shattering the silence, and startling Steve into dropping the bird. Together, all four hung over the window-sill to watch it go. Wings flapped ungainly for a moment, before it recovered and soared away into the darkness.

“We took it from its homeland,” Sam continued, voice returning to that tremulous whimper, “And now it will be lost forever.”

“That’s not how birds work…” Bucky started, but Maria laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“It’s okay. You were in New England, not U.K. England.” She continued, helping Steve back inside and shutting the window. “The swans here aren’t owned by royalty.”

“So, it wasn’t treasonous?” Natasha’s lamp-like eyes threatened to draw Maria in again.

“No, darling.”

Before Sam could make to resume his sobbing, Maria pushed some of her lazing-litter away from the sofa, and drew her wife into her lap. Steve shoved Sam into the armchair, while he and Bucky plopped either side of her and Natasha.

So, apparently, it did matter if she got totally inebriated. Weekends were mini-holidays, but she couldn’t take a break from her wifely duties. The gang clearly needed some advice on managing a drunk Nattie. She would be happy to school them on another day.

She was warming up between the two super soldiers, and the adorkable mini-assassin.

Maybe she could take a nap? Steve and Bucky’s DNA burned off alcohol the minute it hit their blood streams. They would look after the crazies. They could absolutely wake her up if she was needed, right?

Adjusting Nattie in her lap, she yawned.

“By the way, that wasn’t a swan.”


End file.
